


Black Hole Sun

by coconutcluster



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, these mfs GAY yall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:09:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27501319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coconutcluster/pseuds/coconutcluster
Summary: This is just a neat little place to put all the rivals-to-lovers loceit drabbles from my university au~
Relationships: Deceit | Janus Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 88
Kudos: 200





	1. the ~tie tug~

**Author's Note:**

> check out the whole au (lots of headcanons and smaller pieces, including prinxiety and such) at @coconut-cluster on tumblr <3  
> a quick note - these are drabbles, so they may not have a clear beginning (although i try to give a set end lol)!!

“Can you do me a favor and shut up?”

“Can’t shut me up yourself?” Janus grinned without missing a beat, a wicked glint in his eyes. “’Cause I can think of a couple ways-”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Logan said through grit teeth, “try to distract me.”

A beat of silence. For a moment, Logan was almost relieved for the quiet end to the argument (and he duly ignored the pang of disappointment in his chest, illogical as it was) - but it faded as quickly as it came, because that grin turned to something mockingly surprised as Janus tilted his head. He was the paragon of a shallow piety, feigned and sharp and utterly infuriating. 

“Oh, is that _distracting_?” he breathed, leaning his hip against the table as he gave Logan a quick once-over. “Which part - the comment? Or me?” 

Logan narrowed his eyes. “You know what I mean.” 

“No, I don’t think I do,” Janus remarked. “Let’s figure it out, why don’t we - tell me, is this distracting?” He took a step closer, dragging his fingertips along the tabletop beside him and raising an eyebrow when Logan didn’t move back. “No? This?” 

A single movement, swift and smooth, and his hand was around Logan’s tie, and despite the rapid beating in his chest, Logan’s scowl didn’t waver. Those mismatched eyes stared evenly into his as Janus twisted the tie around his hand idly, fingers brushing the buttons near Logan’s collar. 

“Nothing,” he tsked. His eyes flashed, just a split second before he smiled again - enough to show the sharp tips of his canines - and asked, “What about this?” 

And with one tug, a sharp pull on the tie wrapped around his hand, the distance between them was closed almost completely - Logan braced his free hand against the table, holding back the breath caught in his throat as Janus pressed his hand, still wrapped in the tie, against Logan’s chest, all with that maddeningly smug smile that Logan so badly wanted to wipe off his face. 

“Distracted now?” Janus asked brightly, though his voice was just above a murmur. “Because I do think I’m seeing a blush on that lovely, scowl-y face of yours.” 

“All _I’m_ seeing is that you’re so insecure in your argument, you have to resort to _flirting_ to distract from it,” Logan seethed, his voice just as low. Janus raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh, this has nothing to do with my argument.” He tugged again, eyes flicking over Logan’s face as it inched closer like he was savoring every part of his expression. “The flirting’s just for fun. And you want to know what I think?”

Logan stared at him, ignoring the threat of a shiver down his spine as Janus’ fingertips brushed his forearm, and grit his teeth again. “What?”

“I think,” he said lowly, his smile tilting upwards to a smirk when Logan’s eyes flicked to his lips and lingered there, “you enjoy this as much as I do.” 


	2. the ~belt loop tug~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka logan's revenge for the tie tug. also these mfs still gay as hell

“If you’re going to be such a jerk about it,” Janus hissed across the table as Logan just rolled his eyes, “then I’m _sure_ you can manage on your own.”

He stood, gathering his books into a pile and shoving them into his bag. Logan’s annoyed scowl turned to disbelief as he watched, and he gave a short, humorless laugh. “Are you seriously leaving?” 

“Well, you clearly think you can do this better by yourself. So do it by yourself.” 

“I am _not_ doing this project alone, Peters-” Janus pulled his backpack onto one shoulder and pushed his chair in, and finally Logan stood, too, any guise of humor dropped as he stared after him. “Disagreeing with your point is hardly me saying I can do better myself! And you _leaving_ because of it is a ridiculous overreaction, and- are you serious right now?” 

“Dead serious,” Janus called flippantly over his shoulder.

“Peters, we’ve been working on this for hours, you can’t just leave when we’re so close to finishing-” 

“Then you can get a lovely little rush from finishing it yourself.” 

“Would you come back here?”

“Nope. Have a _great_ night, Oliveira.” 

“Oh, for the love of- _Janus_.” 

Before Janus could blink - before he could fully process the impact of Logan calling him by his first name, though it made a distinct _uh oh_ echo in his mind as his steps faltered - there was a tug on his belt loop. 

It took him a brief, halting second to realize Logan had reached out to stop him, just- just linked a finger _through his belt loop_ and pulled him back. It took another second for Janus to remark to himself how strong Logan had to be for it to have worked so smoothly. 

In those two seconds, short and instantaneous as they felt, Logan yanked him right back to where he’d been moments ago, and as Janus suddenly found himself face-to-face with a visibly incensed project partner, he realized all at once that he kind of fucked up. 

“Listen to me,” Logan said under his breath, his dark eyes sharp and eyebrows raised as Janus blinked owlishly at him. “I have been here for _six hours,_ ” he emphasized each word by pulling Janus a little closer, hands on his hips, and Janus wasn’t sure if he should pull Logan down by his collar or make a run for it. (He wasn’t sure which one he preferred, frankly.) “I’m tired, I’m hungry, and frankly, if I have to stay here much longer and hear you complain one more time, I’m _going_ to shove you against a bookshelf and-”

“Point taken,” Janus said hoarsely. 

“We are finishing this project here, _now_ , if it’s the last thing we do. Alright?”

For a minute - a long, silent minute where Janus could only hear his heartbeat, was almost near enough to feel Logan’s - they just stared at each other. There was a challenge in Logan’s eyes, dark and final and daring Janus to refuse, as he was so prone to doing. With those dark eyes focused unwaveringly on his and only a few inches between them, Janus was not particularly inclined to refuse this time around.

Quite the opposite, really, as a part of him had the urge to move, a twitch in his hands to grab Logan’s tie or collar or those dark curls and close the small distance between them, and the impulsive voice in his head nearly spurred him forward to do just that - but he could just see students and librarians moving between shelves over Logan’s shoulder, and he was _not_ about to get rejected by Logan Oliveira, of all people, in front of a crowd.

And because he didn’t like Logan, obviously, and didn’t actually want to kiss him, especially after they’d just argued. Obviously, he reminded himself as his gaze flitted to Logan’s lips, and he wondered suddenly what the rest of the bookshelf threat was going to be before he’d cut Logan off. 

…Obviously.

“Fine,” he said at last, shrugging a shoulder as if it didn’t matter one way or the other. Logan’s sharp look finally relaxed, and Janus found the composure to raise an eyebrow and lean a little closer, reveling once more in the way Logan seemed almost startled as he added, just above a whisper, “You kind of have to let go of me first.” 

Another beat of silence as Logan’s eyes darted down to where his hands still rested on Janus’ hips. Alarm flashed across his face for a split second, but Janus would be lying if he said he expected the way it melted seamlessly into something uncharacteristically roguish in Logan’s expression, which made Janus’ charm falter all over again, just after he’d recovered it, and good Lord, he really was not prepared to handle this kind of thing from _him_. 

“Do you promise not to try another dramatic exit?” Logan asked pointedly, leaning in, too, and raising his eyebrows as Janus gave an offended huff.

“As long as you promise not to be a domineering jerk-”

“ _Peters_.”

“Fine! Fine, yes, whatever. No dramatic exits.” Logan smiled, self-satisfied prick that he was, and Janus swatted at his hands after another moment of stillness between them, duly ignoring the way their noses were less than inch apart at that point. “Let me go now.”

Logan finally pulled back, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the edge of the table as Janus begrudgingly stalked back to his seat and started to unpack his bag. After a few deliberate thuds of textbooks against the table (and a hissed _shhhh_ from a passing librarian), Logan, his mouth still tugging at a smile, said suddenly, “You know, you were right.” 

“I usually am.” Janus stopped, still holding his last book as he narrowed his eyes. “…About what?”

“The flirting thing’s kind of fun.” Logan pushed himself from the edge of the table and went back to his seat, sparing Janus only a quick once-over. “You’re almost cute when you blush.” 

And he pulled up their powerpoint again, launching into some spiel about statistical error and analysis that Janus barely heard a word of - he was too busy blinking at Logan, disbelieving and speechless and more than a little affronted. He’d been flustered… by Logan. He’d been flustered by the likes of a chem major in a necktie. And Logan had done it on purpose.

Well, he’d be _damned_ if he let Logan Oliveira get the last word on this, especially with that infuriating, smug smile on his face. 

No. Janus would just have to up his game. 


	3. janus being gay and in denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "i hate logan oliveira so much," he says,"i want to pull him close to... glare at him," he says, "yeah that's the totally normal and heterosexual reason for that," he lies

It had been well over a decade since Janus had believed in God. Twelve years, in fact, since he had so much as prayed, let alone truly believed and relied on the existence of some omnipotent bastard in the sky - and yet he was all-too-willing to make an exception so he could have someone to blame for his current situation. 

If anyone asked, he did not like Logan Oliveira. He was arrogant, and domineering, and stuffy, and controlling, and boring- Janus could go on and on about why he and Oliveira were always at odds. Hell, he could make an alphabetized list, if he truly wanted to. There was something about the way Logan acted like he knew everything, all the time, that made Janus’ blood boil, made him want to argue back day and night until he got the final word in, made him want to grab that stupid tie and pull him close until he was near enough to see any fractal of humility in those dark eyes. If anyone asked, they were rivals - nemeses, even - plain and simple. 

And Janus was going to kill God for making Oliveira so goddamn attractive despite it. 

In general, it was a vice Janus could tolerate - he could function just fine on the daily, when Logan was dressed like a tenured English professor on a trip to some history museum on the particularly pretentious side of London, with his tortoiseshell glasses and tweed waistcoats and that stupid satchel. In general, Logan was put together, and Janus could deal with the fact that he was, admittedly, an… aesthetically pleasing person, to say the least. But Oliveira was a prick, and a prick to Janus specifically, and he was anything but put together today. 

When Janus had finally arrived at their table in the library, reluctantly ready for another day of cramming for the one million finals he had in the coming week, he found his usual study partner (study… rival?) with his head down on the table, an array of textbooks and journals fanned out around him like he was the exhausted center of the universe’s most mind-numbingly dogmatic solar system. It took until Janus set down his bag across the table for Logan to finally look up, but when he did, Janus’ brain skidded to a halt. 

The first thing he managed to process was the fact that Logan was not wearing his glasses - they were pushed up onto his head, where a few stray curls fell past the frames, and his eyes were, for once, on full, unobstructed display. Janus had seen those eyes up close a fair few times, but as he stared at them now, he couldn’t help but notice how dark they truly were, a warm brown so deep and rich it seemed to blend in with the black his pupils. It wasn’t as if he’d never seen dark eyes before - Roman and Remus had dark eyes, even - but there was something encapsulating about Logan’s, something enchanting in their depth. He thought of all the times he’d underestimated how piercing dark eyes could be before he’d met Logan; he thought of all the times he’d been just inches from those eyes since then, seen them narrowed or widened or glinting with something only Janus was privy to. 

Those eyes were tired now, Janus noticed, but framed by dark eyelashes and dark brows and dark curls, under the gloom of the rainclouds through the sunroof, the tiredness seemed a dark cloud in his gaze to match. 

From across the table, Janus could just make out the dusting of freckles across Logan’s nose and cheekbones next - they were light, but still, Janus wondered how he’d never noticed them before, with as many times as he’d no doubt been close enough to count them. (All this time Logan had called him _Freckles_ with that maddening smile, crooked and smug and infuriatingly taunting, and he could have shot it right back?) 

But the thing that Janus’ gaze lingered on, the kicker that made Logan Oliveira a stupid, stupidly beautiful prick, was that _godforsaken_ collar. 

He was used to button downs on Logan - he wore them with nearly every outfit, under a jacket or vest or sweater, almost always with some tie or another. What Janus was _not_ used to was the shirt on its own, and what he was _certainly_ not used to was the first two buttons being undone, as if Logan had just pulled something on without even bothering to finish fastening to the collar. Janus quite suddenly understood, on some level, the feverish sensibilities of the historical, because the sight of Logan’s faintly freckled collarbones nearly made his heart stop. 

“Something wrong, Peters?” Logan said at last, his voice gravelly like he’d just woken up, and Janus had to stop himself from holding the chair for stability. 

“Of course not,” he lied. Logan raised an eyebrow as Janus finally sat down, but Janus just set to rooting through his bag for his notebook, because if he didn’t avoid that gaze, Lord knows what he’d do. 

Curls astray, eyes tired, tie and buttons undone - Logan Oliveira looked a mess, and Janus had never wanted to kiss him more.

God really was a bastard. 


	4. mon cheri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for those who don't follow the au on tumblr, these two dorks call each other pet names "sarcastically" or "tauntingly" because they're like two layers of snark away from making out at all times

“If I have to read _one_ more goddamn thing about Kant, I’m going to tear my hair out.” 

“Interesting, coming from you.” Logan barely looks up as Janus grumbles into his book, something about transcendentalism and Kant’s ‘ _weird tiny face’._ “Don’t you read about him on your own time?”

Janus finally lifts his head from the weathered pages of _Critique of Judgement_ and fixes a glare across the table. Logan, without needing to meet his gaze, makes an _Am I wrong?_ face, and Janus doesn’t bother to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. “Reading for class versus reading for entertainment, _mon cheri_. I expected you of all people to recognize the difference. I’d rather not have to read a hundred pages of Immanuel Kant with the impending doom of an exam on every page.” 

Logan just snickers; Janus narrows his eyes and scrutinizes Oliveira’s figure, reclined in his chair as he scans the book of poetry in his hands like he’s read it too many times to need concentration. Janus’ gaze catches on his hands for a second - he tells himself it’s the watch on Logan’s wrist, that’s all, shining under the sunroof and catching his attention - before he snaps himself out of it and raises an eyebrow across the table. “Something funny?” 

“Just didn’t realize we were that close,” Logan shrugs, an amused smile tugging at his mouth as he flips another page in his book.

Janus stares at him. 

And stares. 

And stares for another second, and finally says, haltingly, “What?” 

“ _Mon cheri,_ I mean. My dear.” Logan spares him a glance over the rim of his glasses, an eyebrow raised at the blank, owlish expression on Janus’ face. “I’ve been to France before, Peters.”

Janus narrows his eyes again, not at all petulant or panicking about what other phrases Logan picked up in France. “That doesn’t exactly make you fluent.”

“I didn’t claim to be. But my dad called my mom _mon cheri_ enough on that trip,” he flips another page and smiles at whichever poem he’s landed on, “I don’t exactly need a translator to know it’s an endearment.” 

“…Well.” Janus picks at the edge of his book, nose in the air, rooting around in his on-fire brain for a comeback, something to flip this around and give him a semblance of ingenuity. “Don’t flatter yourself too much. Sarcasm is a hallmark of this dynamic, Oliveira.” Logan snickers again. “Taking everything to heart, are we?” 

“Getting _defensive_ , are we?” 

Janus’ mouth snaps shut as Logan glances at him again, dark eyes sparkling, and Janus finds he’s not even mad. Annoyingly the opposite, in fact. 

There is, admittedly, something… _fun_ about these exchanges. Janus is all for drama, of course, especially when he’s got the upper hand, tie tugs and touches and flirting a plenty, but he’s found this- this _banter_ of theirs lights something smaller in him. Something twinkling, as foolish as it sounds. He’s found he likes it.

…Hm.

“Don’t worry, though” Logan says breezily, effectively interrupting Janus’ mental soliloquy. “I won’t overestimate any affection.” 

There’s a beat of silence - Janus has a small, nagging urge to snap back to that, to suggest maybe it’s not an overestimation at all - but then Logan clears his throat, like he’s holding back another laugh, and adds quickly, “ _Amoruccio_.” 

(And yes, as he feels confusion melt into surprise into a stupid, delightful thrill, he finds he quite likes this game of theirs.)


	5. archery/piano

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so in this au, logan does archery, janus plays piano. here's some romantic tension relating to that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (these are two different and very short segment drabbles, just random requests from tumblr lol)

“Do I seem like an archer to you?” Janus deadpans. 

Logan raises an eyebrow as he gives Janus a careful onceover, studying his form, arms crossed over his chest. Janus resists the urge to shift under his gaze. “No. Right now, you seem like a pessimist who won’t listen to my directions.” 

“Maybe your directions just suck.” 

“They do not- fine,” Logan sighs. He steps up to Janus’ side, placing his hands on Janus’ hips to adjust his stance, focused enough to (thankfully) miss the way Janus takes in a sharp breath. “Your body needs to face that way,” he says pointedly, “and your arm should be higher here. Make sure you’re putting equal weight on both feet - you need to stay connected to the ground until you’re done with the shot.” There’s a pause, a small moment where Logan’s hands still rest on his hips, where Janus is sure Logan can hear the relentless beating of his heart. “And Peters?” 

Janus spares a glance over his shoulder, forcing an even breath so his voice doesn’t crack. “What?” 

And then there’s a finger under his chin, lifting it to face the target head-on across the field. Logan leans into his field of vision, just enough for Janus to see the tiny, smug smile on his face, and Janus’ heart races a million miles a minute in his chest as those dark eyes glint something pleased. “Chin up.” 

\--

“Peters,” Logan said flatly, drawing away from the keys with a mixture of disdain and, admittedly, cluelessness, “I don’t mean to- eh, _debase_ your hobby-” 

“Choose your next words carefully.” 

“-but I’m not really a music person.” 

He glanced over his shoulder and saw Janus raise an eyebrow at him, arms crossed over his chest. “If I have to learn archery,” he shot back, placing a hand on Logan’s shoulder and forcing him to sit back down at the piano bench when he tried to stand, duly ignoring Logan’s protests, “then _you_ have to learn piano.” 

“Wh- I wouldn’t equate archery to _this_ , Peters. _Archery_ is about precision, and patience, and coordination, and-” 

“Spare me the manifesto.” 

Logan glared at him. “ _Piano_ ,” he snapped, “is about musicality.”

“And?” 

“And,” he gestured vaguely to himself, and Janus raised an eyebrow again, giving him a slow onceover, “I can’t say I’m quite the target audience for that kind of thing.”

For a minute, Janus just stared down at him, eyebrows furrowed and mouth a taut line. The music room was eerily silent at this time of day, late in the evening as it were, and it felt even emptier as Janus was quiet, just… staring, and Logan felt his hands drift back to the piano keys, unsure of what to do with himself in a place so unfamiliar to him. 

And there was a moment - a few seconds later, when Janus’ gaze fell to the keys, unreadable - where Logan worried he’d hit a sore spot. Perhaps he came off too harsh, managed to knock the light in Janus’ eyes down a few levels. He looked down to the keys, too, biting the inside of his cheek. 

Just as he figured out an apology - small, quick, enough to let them move on swiftly as he knew they’d both want to - Janus sighed. 

“You don’t have to start with musicality, if that’s difficult,” he said quietly, almost gently. “You shouldn’t, really - it’s better to start with the technical parts. You’ve mostly got the posture down already, so let’s do basic rhythms.

“It’s basically just math, in this sense,” he continued, finally sitting down beside Logan on the bench and nudging Logan’s arm with his elbow. “It’s just patterns and rules - measures have a certain number of beats, and different note lengths make different rhythms, for example.” 

He shifted closer, placed a hand on the small of Logan’s back and the other over Logan’s hand, still resting on the keys. Logan was used to Janus touching him - he was used to Janus being touchy in general, that is - but there was something unusually light about the way he corrected Logan’s hand position, something absentmindedly casual in the way he rubbed his thumb back and forth near the base of Logan’s spine, and it was gentle and quiet and horribly distracting as Logan stared at the keys and missed every word of Janus’ explanation. 

“Does that make sense?” Janus finished, yanking Logan back to attention. 

“What?” Logan said stupidly, before glancing up - Janus was watching him, eyebrows furrowed, their noses only an inch or two apart - and nodding instinctively. “Oh- uh, yes. It does.” 

Janus stared at him a moment longer. For a brief minute, the music room was silent as Logan hastily looked back to the keys, studying them blankly; quiet as Janus’ gaze flickered to where his hand rested on Logan’s. Then, just as Logan began dusting away a speck on a random key, eager for something else to focus on, he felt Janus’ grip shift, moving up Logan’s arm and resting on his bicep as he leaned in a little closer, a smile playing at his lips.

“You’re sure it makes sense?” he said lowly, a hum in Logan’s ear that threatened to send a shiver down his spine. 

Logan stared at the keys a moment longer, willing the racing in his chest to slow down, gritting his teeth against the heat rising to his face as he turned to meet Janus’ simpering gaze. “Could you go through it one more time?” he asked, half reluctant, half forcibly composed, barely resisting the urge to glance down to Janus’ mouth as it tilted into that damned smile. 

“Gladly.”


	6. the alcove scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so anyone who isn't on tumblr for this au will be confused about this scene, so allow to provide some context:   
> In this AU, Remus has a pet newt he stole from the herpetology department during his freshman orientation tour. He's had this newt for about three years at this point, and he, along with Patton, loves and protects it with his life. He leaves one weekend for a volunteer thing, right, and leaves Bartholonewt (the newt) in the care of Patton; Patton is chilling in a common area in the university's union building, and when he leaves for a minute, he finds Bartholonewt missing.   
> Over the course of the day, a very panicked Patton and the rest of the crew track Bartholonewt down to the hands of a senior herpetology student, who's been suspicious of Remus having stolen the newt for literally three years and seemingly stole the newt BACK in an act of vengeance and retribution. Very dramatic and thrilling, I know.   
> (the rest of the summary is in the chapter notes below)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anywho, the others hatch a plan to get Bartholonewt back, but it involves breaking into the herpetology department late one night and specifically NOT getting caught (because that could get them in a ton of trouble). The alcove scene, then, is when the crew is waiting in the herpetology building the next night for the student who took Barty to set him down (or so they can forcefully take Barty back, whichever works) - Patton goes to a nearby classroom, Roman and Virgil go to one end of the hall and hide around the corner, and Logan and Janus get stuck down the hall in a little alcove.   
> i think that should be sufficient to understand this scene from there, so enjoy :)   
> (also there is a small snippet of this from Janus' POV coming soon so be on the lookout)

“Frankly, Oliveira, I don’t want to be this close to you on a _good_ day.”

Logan raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. “Are you kidding?” he said, his mouth quirking up into the smallest of crooked smiles, and Janus’ haughty air faltered. “We get closer than this when we argue, Peters - and judging by the way you love to start _arguments_ , I’d hardly call that a bad day for you.” 

His gaze flickered down to the small space between them, less than a foot, and when he looked back up to Janus, there was something far too knowing in his eyes, and far too smugly at that. “Unless it’s not the arguing you’re worried about.” 

And before Janus could retort - and retort he would, even as the comment took him aback - another door fell shut somewhere, and immediately, they both went completely silent, holding their breath as footsteps rang out down the hall. 

Slowly, carefully, Logan turned around and leaned forward, just enough to see past the corner and down the long hall. 

“Is that them?” Janus whispered, craning his neck before quickly ducking back into the alcove. 

“I think so.” Logan leaned a little farther around the corner, squinting into the darkness; he could just make out the shape of a person, trudging down the hall with a cage at their side, glinting dimly under the slivers of moonlight that broke through the windows. “Oh- oh, they’re coming this way.” 

“What?” 

“They’re coming this way,” he repeated. “Like, down this hall.”

“Oh, _fantastic_ \- what, are we near a lab or something?” 

“I don’t know, I didn’t exactly have time to check every room we passed, Peters-”

“Okay, okay, that’s fine. We’re fine- we’ll _be_ fine, as long as they don’t pass by us.” 

Logan stared down the hall, frowning as the figure showed no signs of stopping, and asked, slowly, “And if they do?” 

“Depends,” Janus raised an eyebrow. “How unhinged would you say herpetology students are?” 

Logan turned back to him to give him a weird look. “I mean… fairly,” he said uncertainly. “I would assume, anyway. Most STEM majors are sleep deprived and carrying a pretty large workload-” 

“In that case, I’d suggest you think of a plan quickly if we don’t want to be jumped by a kid who studies lizards in their spare time.” Logan shot him a reproachful glance. “What? You can’t tell me you wouldn’t be a little embarrassed by that.” 

“I don’t think that would be our biggest issue-” 

“ _Plan,_ Oliveira,” Janus hissed. “Before I think of one you won’t like.” 

Logan’s mouth snapped shut, indignant but obedient, and he peeked around the corner again, drumming his fingers against his leg faster as the footsteps got closer by the second. This kid walked fast. 

“I don’t know,” he said at last, hesitating more than he would care to admit. (Janus was right, in a way - it felt ridiculous, to cower in an alcove against a kid with a newt, but the nagging threat of being caught, of being accused of God knows what, trespassing or breaking and entering or- or whatever else this kid could think up - it made him nervous. It made him nervous, to be at a loss. Damn this newt.) “I don’t know. They’ll definitely see us if we stay here, but they’re too close for us to run without being caught - in layman’s terms,” he winced as the clattering of the cage rang out far too close to their spot, “we’re screwed.” 

Janus stared at him, jaw set. “So my turn for a plan?” 

“It would seem so.” 

“Alright, Oliveira,” he said slowly, deliberately, and he took a step up, a step closer in the tight space between them - Logan glanced at him and found his gaze linger, because Janus’ eyes, just inches away from his, glinted something unreadable under the dim moonlight that found them in the alcove. Those eyes darted to the figure down the hall, then back to Logan’s, and Logan felt his breath hitch. “Care for an argument?” 

And for a brief second, they were silent. For a brief, suspended moment in the alcove, only inches and the question between them, they just stared at each other, holding their breath as still as the air around them. Logan wondered, for a split second, if Janus could hear his heart start racing. If he would hear Janus’ doing the same if he listened. For just a second, the world stopped. 

And then Janus’ gaze flitted to his lips, and Logan threw stillness to the wind. 

In an instant, he took Janus’ face in his hands and closed the distance between them - Janus made a startled noise in the back of his throat that died as soon as their lips met, melting into a sigh instead, and Logan didn’t take the time to analyze his relief as Janus’ hands found his waist and pulled him closer. 

The clatter of the cage and clicking of footsteps disappeared beyond them; it was just the feeling of Janus’ flushed skin beneath his fingers, the brush of his hair as Logan’s hand shifted to the nape of his neck to kiss him deeper. Janus reached up and tugged him closer by the collar in response, smiling against Logan’s lips when Logan pushed him a step back, flush to the wall of the alcove, and it was maddening and addicting and exhilarating all at once, a feverish mix that made his thoughts halt and heart race.

Logan knew, deep down, that by all means, he shouldn’t be enjoying this. He harped day and night about how much Janus annoyed him, how often they were at odds, how infuriating his smirk and touches and teasing always were; shoved into the alcove with him now, Logan should be indignant at the course of action they’d taken - and maybe it was just Logan’s frenzied mind filling in details for him here, supplementing the little details he’d picked up over time in the absence of clear thought - but Janus tasted like clementines and honey and something intoxicating that flooded his senses and pushed Logan to kiss him deeper still, and he found indignance was the furthest thing from his mind. 

For second - a quick moment to catch their breath - they broke apart, still close enough to hear each other’s breaths; Janus hooked an arm around Logan’s neck, his other hand on Logan’s chest, and Logan took his waist, oddly itching to lean forward and kiss him again. As if he could read his mind, Janus gave him that wicked smile. He went to say something, and just as Logan went to cut him off by bringing their lips together once more-

“What are you two doing here?” 

Logan leapt back like the voice was an electric shock, hard enough to knock his head painfully against the opposite wall of the alcove. The herpetology student - a scrawny kid with flat hair and a coat that looked about a size too small - stood before the opening in the hallway, glaring at them with one hand on their hip, the other barely holding on to the cage where Remus’ newt sat calmly. 

Janus stared at Logan for a brief second, as if composing himself, and slowly turned to face the student - Logan noticed him curl his hands into fists even as he forced an all-too-polite smile on his face - and gave them a deliberate onceover. “Can we help you?” 

“Yes,” the student snapped. “You can _leave_. You’re not supposed to be here after ten o’clock unless you have _explicit_ permission from a faculty member-” 

“Oh, is it past ten?” Janus glanced to Logan with raised eyebrows, and Logan raised his back, playing along on instinct as the student nodded indignantly. “Our mistake. We were a little preoccupied,” he gave Logan a wink that made Logan’s face heat up, “so I suppose we didn’t notice how much time had passed. We’ll just be on our way now.” 

He breezed past the student with a small brush to their shoulder, a breath of a touch that left them straightening their spine and clearing their throat, and they shot Logan a dirty look as he clumsily elbowed his way out of the alcove right afterwards. 

“Thank you,” the student said, somewhere between annoyed and relieved. “Please be more attentive next time you, uh…” they glanced between Logan and Janus, eyebrows furrowing at the way Janus took Logan’s wrist a second later, “stay after.” 

“Of course.” Logan sent Janus a brief look - _what about the newt? Do we just take it now?_ \- but Janus shook his head, just barely, so Logan just cleared his throat and gave the student a terse nod. “Have a nice night.” 

“Nice newt,” Janus commented, and promptly dragged Logan down the hallway. 

The student’s footsteps resumed behind them as they practically fled the opposite way, heading straight for the bathroom Roman and Virgil had hidden in. Logan’s heart still raced - he couldn’t tell from what, really, running or panic or… 

“That was a good plan back there,” he said suddenly. 

Janus didn’t spare him a glance, focused on squinting for the restroom sign in the dark. “Eh,” he dismissed with a shrug. “Herpetology students are apparently _very_ easy to lie to-” 

“I don’t mean the lying.” 

And Janus did glance back at that. He raised an eyebrow at Logan over his shoulder, his quick steps slowing for just a second, his grip on Logan’s wrist slacking, then tightening again ever so slightly. “I know,” he said matter-of-factly, nose in the air. “You’re welcome, by the way.” 

“…For what?” 

“For what? Kissing me is an honor, Oliveira, and not one many get to experience.” 

“Oh,” he said stupidly. A second later, he processed it, and the tension in his shoulders released at last, purely out of exasperation. “Oh my- right,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes as Janus gave him a smug little smile. “Right, _thank you_ , your Majesty, I feel oh-so-honored to be one of the few.”

“You should - you’re not getting the chance again.” 

If he noticed the way Logan’s expression faltered at that, just for a moment, he didn’t show it; he just turned back to navigating the hall, finally letting go of Logan’s wrist to readjust his shirt (Logan’s mind jumped to the fact that he was the one who had messed it up in the first place, though he banished the thought a second later). 

And it was stupid, the way something in his chest dropped at the comment. At the way Janus said it so certainly. Foolish, even - it’s not like Logan _wanted_ to kiss him again, of course, but… 

…Oh, God. Logan wanted to kiss him again.

Logan stopped in his tracks, let Janus walk on for a minute, because he wanted to kiss Janus Peters again, to grab his face or his hair or his waist and pull him close and taste clementine and honey and feel him smile against it again, and that was _absolutely_ not how rivals were supposed to feel about each other, and oh, _shit_ -

“Oliveira?” Janus called down the hall when he finally realized Logan had stopped a few paces back. “Scared of the dark or something? Hurry up, the others are probably waiting to regroup.” 

“Sorry,” Logan called back hoarsely. “Sorry, I’m coming.” 

Janus sent him a weird look, but he turned back around and continued down the hall, leaving Logan to force a deep breath. To compose himself. To carefully consider - and reject, mind you - any thoughts of Janus Peters pressed against the wall of an alcove. To fail miserably at all three. 

…He was completely, utterly screwed. 


	7. the alcove scene: Janus' POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> people on tumblr wanted Janus' POV for the kiss so i will ~deliver~

“So my turn for a plan?”

“It would seem so.”

Janus glanced down the hall, at the figure quickly approaching, and back to Logan, who didn’t look at him just yet. A plan nagged at the edge of his thoughts; they didn’t have much time, he realized, so it was this or stand around like morons in an alcove, just waiting to be caught and accused, but it was ridiculous, of course…

Or maybe it wasn’t, if he went by the glint in Logan’s eyes earlier. _Judging by the way you love to start arguments, I’d hardly call that a bad day for you._

_Unless it’s not the arguing you’re worried about._

…No, maybe this wasn’t a ridiculous idea at all. 

“Alright, Oliveira,” he said evenly, and he knew he was preparing himself more than Logan. He took a step forward, a step closer to Logan in the small space of the alcove - Logan finally looked back to him, and he froze, eyes darting to the miniscule space between them, meeting Janus’ gaze again a second later and staying there. “Care for an argument?” 

For a moment, they were silent. Silent as Janus kept his gaze even, daring, open, and tried not to get distracted by the way Logan’s dark hair seemed almost blue in the moonlit hall, the way his eyes searched Janus’, filled with something unreadable. Silent as Janus’ heart heart threatened to beat out of his chest. Silent as Logan seemed about to say something, on the brink of speaking, and Janus’ gaze flitted to his lips without thinking. 

And in an instant - before he could even blink, let alone process it - Logan took his face in his hands and brought their lips together. 

A startled noise escaped his throat before he could stop it, a surprised sound that melted into a sigh as Logan held his face, guided him into the kiss. Janus grabbed his waist to get rid of the last inch between them, fingers curling into the soft material of his sweater - a small part of his brain was triumphant, utterly delighted by this turn of events he’d itched for every time he teased Logan, every time Logan bit back or pulled him close or just smiled, but _good God_ , he’d sorely underestimated just how intoxicating it would be.

Because he inhaled, and Logan smelled like cinnamon and pine and touched him like starlight and Janus wanted to revel in it all until he was dizzy, drunk on the feeling of _being_ kissed, of Logan shifting his hand to the nape of Janus’ neck and deepening the kiss until Janus’s knees felt weak, the thrill of Logan’s hands finding his waist and pushing him back against the wall as Janus tugged him closer by the collar and smiled against his lips. The wall of the alcove was cold against his back - against the sliver of skin uncovered as Logan’s hold messed his shirt up - but Logan radiated a warmth that overwhelmed any discomfort. 

For a brief second, they broke apart to catch their breath, close enough still to resume their kiss by barely leaning forward. Janus hooked an arm around Logan’s neck, turning the small gap between them smaller yet, and placed his other hand against Logan’s chest, and there was something exhilarating in feeling the racing beneath his fingers. Logan’s gaze flickered over Janus’ face in the silence. 

Those dark eyes were bright, glinting in the dim light as they flitted to Janus’ lips - Janus grinned, opened his mouth without knowing exactly what he’d say. _Kiss me again_ , maybe, lame as it was. _Kiss me without pretending we’re doing this to hide. Call it arguing, for all I care, and keep it a ruse._

_If this is arguing, we should argue way more often._

He opened his mouth to say it, any of it, maybe all of it, and- 

“What are you two doing here?”

-and he was going to kill a herpetology student in cold blood. 


	8. janus is a simp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 💕

Janus prided himself on being a fairly smart person. Clever, admittedly, was his usual go-to descriptor, or maybe cunning, but it all came down to intellect in the end - a fluid intelligence that made him a force to be feared in debates and, at the very least, respected in conversation. _Reasonable_ was a fair choice of words, too. 

So he could not figure out why he hadn’t thought through a single decision of his since his classes let out. 

If he tried to think about it hard, he’d chalk this whole thing up to the odd funk he’d been in all day; zoning out during classes, absentminded walking down the halls, not even bothering to argue in a debate that broke out in his sociology seminar. Yes, it seemed just a slow day for him in whole. That explanation didn’t quite account for the total decline in his entire ability to think critically, though. 

If he _actually_ thought about - honestly and fully - he knew the true reason. 

_I’m sick. Back tomorrow._

Four words sent halfway through his first class of the day, simple and concise enough for him to glance at and understand without even lifting his phone. Four words to explain the empty seat across the lecture hall that Janus found his eyes drifting to in dull moments. Four words, and Janus’ day had been ruined. 

Four words, and he’d found it difficult to tune into anything afterwards. _Ruined_ might be a bit dramatic, admittedly; he only had one class on Wednesdays with Logan, the one in the morning, so it wasn’t as if the rest of his classes would be affected by his absence. Their study session would have to be called off for the day, though. With the holiday break quickly approaching, too, Janus was eager to distract himself from the impending phone calls and forced communication from his father, and arguing with Logan had proven an excellent distraction - and as much as Janus denied it, he quite enjoyed having their exchanges to look forward to on a good day as much as a bad one. 

And still, despite his melodrama, he’d made it through his classes just fine. He’d gotten to work just fine. He’d gotten through his shift just fine. The whole day had been fine - boring, admittedly, with no banter or debate worth having, no dark hair and dark eyes and little smile and stupid, cute sweater to look at when classes were slow, no study session to look forward to after work, but fine nonetheless. And then it was time for him to clock out, and without thinking, he’d used his one-drink-a-shift privilege to make a peppermint tea and doodled _Oli~_ on the cup cozy. 

And now he was standing outside Logan Oliveira’s apartment with hot tea and a genuine crisis as to where all his braincells had gone.

He could just leave. He knew that. He could go back to his apartment, enjoy the tea himself, resign himself to just seeing Logan the next day (for rivalrous purposes, of course, like arguing... and such). But he was already in front of Logan’s door, and something inside his foolish, emptied little brain was egging him on. He could go back home. Instead, he knocked. 

“Coming!” A peppy voice, far too enthusiastic for Logan, let alone sick Logan. That was good - Janus could do this easier to Patton. 

The door swung open, and a wave of warmth instantly spilled from the apartment, full of ginger and chili and something wholesome that bested the leftover chill from outside. Patton stood in the doorway, glasses askew and a bright blue headband pushing his hair off his forehead and back into wild little spikes. His small smile - a semi-permanent fixture on his face, Janus had found - brightened as Janus waved with his free hand.

“Janus!” Patton greeted. “How are you?”

“Positively swell.” His gaze flicked over Patton’s outfit, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and an old makeshift apron tied around his waist, as Patton adjusted his headband and sent more straight pieces into disarray. “Did I interrupt some cooking?” 

“Oh, no, no- well, yes, but it’s no big deal! The apartment’s only almost burnt down twice while I was away from the stove. I would invite you in,” he said, glancing back into the apartment with a frown, “but we have a man down today, and-” 

“I know.” Patton’s mouth formed a little _o_ , and Janus cleared his throat, nodding to the room over Patton’s shoulder, where he could just see a pair of glasses folded neatly on the coffee table, a blanket barely shifting on the couch. “He texted me earlier to inform me of his absence. And his weak immune system.” 

Patton’s face broke out in a smile again - his eyes flitted down to the cup in Janus’ hand. “Oh, right! And you’re here to...?”

_Look a fool, apparently._ “We get a free drink every shift at the coffeeshop, but I wasn’t really in the mood for coffee, so I thought I’d just make this instead.” He held up the drink and shook it gently, like an idiot, before offering it to Patton. “It’s peppermint tea. It helps with the flu, I’ve heard. For Oliv- for, uh, Logan.” 

Patton stared at the cup for a moment, blinking at it as he took it from Janus’ hands, and then his smile turned small. “That’s so sweet! Well, I’m sure Logan will love this, I’ll let him know you stopped by when he wakes-”

“Oh, you don’t-” Patton stopped and blinked owlishly at him; Janus cleared his throat again, adjusting his scarf, straightened his spine. “You don’t have to tell him it’s from me. He might not take it if you do,” he added with a crooked smile when Patton furrowed his eyebrows together, sighing inwardly with relief as Patton gave a little laugh afterwards.

“Right, right, your rivalry,” he nodded. He tilted his head at Janus, something glinting in his eyes - something almost... knowing. “Rivals don’t bring each other tea, I guess?” 

“No,” Janus said without thinking. Patton raised his eyebrows, and Janus’ gaze flitted to the tea in his hands, and _Jesus_ , his throat was going to be sore from how many times he’d cleared it in one sitting. “Well- I suppose... they do, but not like- ah-” 

“Of course,” Patton said, a saving grace against Janus’ stupid mouth, as he nodded knowingly and held the cup closer to his chest. “In that case, this will stay between us.” 

“Excellent. Thank you, Patton.”

The blanket on the couch shifted again behind Patton, and a spike of panic went through Janus, as if Logan would get mad to see him outside their apartment - he straightened his scarf again, nodding farewell to Patton. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” 

“See ya, Jan,” Patton smiled. “Drive careful on the ice,” he called as Janus started his way down the hall and back to his car, “and text me when you get home safe!” 

And as Janus reached the stairs at the end of the hall, heard the apartment door closing, he could have sworn he heard Patton mutter something about _rivals, yeah right._

Janus made it back to his car in relative peace - cursing himself for seeming a fool, of course, but otherwise - and the drive to his own apartment building was filled with a peaceful quiet, the results of a slow day dragging onward still. The roads weren’t as icy as he’d expected, and he texted Patton that much as he stepped out of his car, his free hand shoved in his pockets against the chill. 

He went to put his phone away as he neared the door, but just as he began to slip it into his other pocket, it buzzed again. He pulled it out, expecting a smiley face and too many exclamation points from Patton, but as he read the notification, he slowed to a stop on the sidewalk. 

_**Oliveira:** _ _Thank you for the tea._

Janus froze outside his apartment building door, reading the notification a few more times before he opened his phone to read it again, to make sure he was seeing it correctly. After a minute - and one very angry passerby in a suit running into him - he finally typed back, _Patton told?_ He should have known that little smile meant trouble. 

_**Oliveira:** _ _No. You’re the only one who calls me ‘Oli’, Peters. Not exactly guesswork on my end._

Oh. Shit. 

_**Oliveira:** _ _...Did you tell Patton not to tell me?_

Another few moments, and Janus decided to at least have this conversation somewhere his fingers weren’t going numb; he pushed the door of his building open with his hip, typing _I didn’t think you’d want it from me_ as he went. It sounded a bit pathetic, looking over it after it was sent, but it was a truth much easier spoken over text. Small mercies, he supposed. 

_**Oliveira:** _ _Why wouldn’t I want it from you?_

_I don’t know. Maybe I poisoned it._

_**Oliveira:** _ _Did you?_

_No, but I could have._

_**Oliveira:** _ _But you didn’t. So of course I’d take it._

_**Oliveira:** _ _I’d be careful, though, Peters. It almost seems like you care about me. :)_

The apartment building was a relief from the chill outside, but the heat creeping up Janus’ face certainly helped warm him up before the heaters in the lobby. Mister Weak-Immune-System had the audacity to turn this on him. Ridiculous.

_In your dreams._ He looked over the messages again and grinned to himself before he could stop it. _And when did you learn how to use emoticons?_

_**Oliveira:** _ _:)_

His laugh got looks sent his way by the other patrons in the lobby; he sent looks back, but made his way to the elevator and up towards his room, reading over the messages like they’d disappear if he looked away. He really was a fool for the day, wasn’t he? 

The elevator gave a chipper ding as it reached his floor and the doors opened. _Well said_ , he typed as he started toward his apartment, and he was sure Logan was used to his sarcasm enough to practically hear it through the screen. _Do be sure to not be dying tomorrow, will you? I don’t know if I can stand the mindless chatter in sociology without the small mercy of having someone to argue with._

_**Oliveira:** _ _I’ll do my best._

_Excellent._ He paused in the middle of the hallway, just for a moment, just outside his door. Before he could think too hard about it - before he could talk himself out of it - he typed and sent _I’ll see you tomorrow, Logan._

He shoved his phone in his pocket, fumbling with his keys to open his apartment and finally shed his layers of wool and mild embarrassment after making a near fool of himself to Patton. He had work to do - an essay or two, a presentation to get a head start on, he still hadn’t eaten dinner - and quite frankly, he was ready to be distracted. 

Just as he sat down at the table, though, his phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket - four words lit up his screen, and as something foolish warmed in his chest, he could admit his day hadn’t really been ruined at all. 

_See you tomorrow, Janus._


	9. The ~wall-pin~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uh oh spaghettio we got some angst in this one boys. also this one is actually fic-length akfjsdfkjl

Janus, seemingly, had made the _extraordinarily_ interesting choice to be as annoying as possible today. 

Logan had hardly noticed when he first sat down to study at their usual table; Janus was already there, twirling a pen idly between his fingers instead of reading the notes in front of them, and he barely looked up as Logan sat down and started unloading his books. The first ten minutes afterward were business as usual, quiet and studious. 

And then Janus tossed his pen at Logan. 

It didn’t actually hit Logan - it landed with a clatter on the textbook in front of him - but it still made him pause to blink at it, eyebrows furrowed, unimpressed and rightfully confused as he glanced up at his (attempted) assailant. 

Janus stared at it for a second, then looked up at Logan, offering a tiny smile. “Whoops.” 

Logan had just blinked a few more times before he tossed the pen back, returning to his notes with a shake of his head; Janus found small delight in bothering him occasionally, so while it was a nuisance regardless, it wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary. 

And then, five minutes later, Janus sighed deeply. And again a minute after that. And again-

“Something wrong, Peters?” Logan snapped, finally looking up to see Janus had completely abandoned his notes to the side of the table and leaned his chin on his palm, staring vacantly up at the skylight. 

“Oh, no,” Janus said breezily. “Just bored is all.” 

Logan eyed the stack of notebooks beside him, raising an eyebrow. “Well, I’m sure you have an assignment or two that can occupy you-”

“Did them in class today.” 

“...I highly doubt that.” 

“Doubt all you want, Oliveira, but the work is done and I’m still bored.” 

“Well,” Logan huffed, gesturing vaguely around them, “we’re in a library. Go find a book to read and stop bothering me - I have a paper to finish before tomorrow morning and I’d appreciate some peace.”

Janus rolled his eyes, muttering something vaguely profane under his breath, but he got up and wandered to the nearest bookshelf, and Logan returned to his notes in blissful silence. 

He got a good part of his paper finished over the next twenty minutes; he’d almost forgotten, by that point, that the typical dynamic of the study session was askew, the seat across from him empty as its usual occupant wandered the shelves around it. 

And then Janus spoke again. 

“Oliveira,” he called over his shoulder, duly ignoring the way Logan very clearly and just barely resisted the urge to drop his head down to his textbook. “Come here.” 

“For _what_.” 

“You’re taller than me, aren’t you? I need to grab this book, but the shelf’s too high. So come here and get it for me.”

“I’m hardly an inch taller than you, Peters,” Logan said flatly. “And you usually say _please_ when asking people to do things for you.” 

“Oh, my apologies. _Please_ come get this book for me, _mon ciel étoilé_ , I am in oh-so-dire need of your kind and charitable nature, _please_ -”

“Good God- _fine_ , yes, just- will you stop bothering me if I come get it?” 

Janus gave him a bright smile, all too pious and golden. “Of course.” 

They stared at each other for a second as Logan weighed his options - succumb to Janus and this ridiculous bother, or ignore him and deal with the clatter for God knows how long afterward - until at last, he gave a deep sigh and flipped his notebook closed. Janus watched with a pleased look as Logan stood from his seat and made his way to the bookshelf, arms crossed and eyebrow raised, impatience seeping through his every move. 

“It’s the Mead one,” Janus said evenly. “On the middle shelf.” 

Logan looked to where he gestured, and after just a second of reading the weathered spines, he forced down another sigh, letting his eyes close for a moment to compose himself instead. “There are multiple books about Mead.” 

“Oh, are there?” Janus tilted his head at the books and hummed. “I hadn’t noticed.” 

“What is your deal today, Peters?” 

“My deal?” 

“ _Yes_ , your deal.” He reached up and grabbed the first book about Mead he touched, handing it to Janus with a stern frown, which he paid no mind to as he set to flipping through the journal. “You’re acting like an attention-seeking child. I have better things to do than let you waste my time like this, and I’m fairly certain you have better things to do than waste it.” 

“I don’t, really,” Janus said without looking up from the book. “And you say attention-seeking, I say looking for a response - and frankly, my dear,” Logan rolled his eyes again, “your responses are very dry today.”

“Well, my apologies. Now leave me alone.” Janus nodded absentmindedly, and after a brief second of waiting, anticipating another bother that didn’t come, Logan turned on his heel to go back to the table. 

“Oh, Oliveira.” 

Oh, he was going to commit homicide. “ _What_.” 

He turned back to face Janus, who flipped the book shut and held it out with another small smile. “This is the wrong one.” 

...Logan, in general, was a fairly patient person. Quick to irritation sometimes, sure, but he had always been good at reining his temper in long enough to solve most problems; he liked solutions, and acting on impulse didn’t offer many. Janus, apparently, had a way of making exceptions to that. 

Well, if it was a response he wanted, Logan would give him one.

He reached out to take the book, bypassing it at the last second to grab Janus’ wrist - he had to admit, the flicker of confusion across Janus’ face was rewarding in and of itself - and holding on as he grabbed the journal with his other hand, placing it back on the nearest shelf. Janus opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get whatever sarcastic comment he had planned, Logan’s free hand was on his chest, and in a single, swift step forward, he shoved Janus against the bookcase. 

If that flicker of confusion had been rewarding, the look on Janus’ face as he processed his position, pinned to the shelf, was priceless. He let out a sharp exhale - disbelief, it seemed, and Logan reveled in it - but after a moment of silence, a moment of comprehension, his eyes glinted with something undeniably triumphant.

“Someone’s got a temper today,” he breathed, a wicked smile breaking out across his face as he met Logan’s gaze. 

Logan narrowed his eyes. “ _Someone_ ,” he said lowly, pressing Janus harder against the bookshelf, “is a bit of a _nuisance_ today, and he needs to _knock it off._ ” 

“Why would I?” Janus grinned. His gaze flickered to Logan’s hold on his wrist, lingering there for a second, and he raised an eyebrow as he whispered, almost conspiratorially, “This isn’t exactly a deterrent.” 

Logan raised an eyebrow right back. A part of him, admittedly, was annoyed at how quickly Janus had recovered, how soon he’d been able to twist the conversation back in his favor with that tone, smooth and low and dipped in honey. He supposed he’d given Janus the response he wanted, anyway - he could just back away now, let the moment of indignation and satisfaction die at its initial completion.

Another part of him, though, was not so eager to give up, and not just to shock that smug look of Janus’ face again; this part of him was perhaps a little too eager for the opposite. This part of him, traitorous and keen, let his gaze catch instead on Janus’ smile, the way the sharp tips of his canines were just visible, the little scar just below his lips. His hand, still pressed to Janus’ chest to hold him to the shelf, suddenly ached to reach up and lift Janus’ chin, just enough to make closing the gap between them that much easier. 

It would be _so_ easy. 

“My eyes are up here, darling,” Janus said, barely above a murmur - Logan didn’t know if it was because they were in a library, or if Janus just knew how it would make heat crawl up his face. He was inclined to think the latter when Janus’ free hand found his waist, resting there lazily like it was a casual touch, like it didn’t make Logan’s breath nearly hitch, like Janus’ eyes weren’t glinting. Like he didn’t know exactly what he was doing. 

Logan managed a frown after a minute, forced as it was, narrowed gaze flicking over Janus' expression. “Are you actually _enjoying_ this?” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Janus said innocently. That infuriating smile crossed his face again a second later, and he bit his lip, reveling in the way Logan’s eyes flickered down again. “I will say this is _quite_ the entertainment, though.” 

“...You’re insufferable.” 

“Oh? Well, you’re the one holding me here, Oliveira.” He leaned forward, just as much as Logan’s hold would allow, close enough for Logan to count every freckle, to see every fleck of gold in his eyes. “If I’m so _insufferable_ ,” he muttered, his mismatched gaze shining and smug, “let me go.” 

In the sudden stillness that followed, Logan was all too aware of Janus’ heartbeat under his palm, a maddeningly steady rhythm against the racing in his own chest. And oddly enough, he didn’t want to let go. There was something ardent inside him, an overwhelming urge that kept him rooted to his spot, dangerously close to moving him forward, should he move at all - forward to count his freckles, to see the gold specks in his eyes, to tilt his chin up. To close the gap between them. 

As if he could sense his hesitation, Janus shifted the hand on Logan’s waist, higher and closer, and rubbed his thumb back and forth idly, watching Logan’s face, _waiting_ for a concession of some form or another, a blush or stammer or step back. A shiver threatened Logan’s spine, but the shadow of a smirk on Janus’ lips made him pause. 

Janus flirted often; Logan was well aware of that. It came naturally to him, lingering touches and smooth talking and endearments and winks, as easy as breathing; Logan had been privy to see it, to be on the receiving end too many times to count, and as much of an irritation it could be at times, Logan was slow to hold it against Janus. He envied it on occasion, in fact. 

And he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it, when that smirk was focused on him, when those mismatched eyes glinted after Logan surprised him. 

Somewhere deep inside him - somewhere buried, where he didn’t have to face the stammer in his heart and the hitch in his breath every time Janus pulled him close - he knew this wasn’t a shallow endeavor for him. The urge to hold Janus’ face and kiss him senseless could only be brushed off so many times before he was just in denial. 

But he couldn’t be certain Janus felt the same. He suspected the opposite, really - it could be difficult to parse Janus’ intentions, but it was clear he found something amusing about their exchanges. He’d said it himself: the teasing, the taunting, the _flirting_ , it was entertainment for him, a game he liked to play and win, especially when he so often had the upper hand. And as much as Logan ached to indulge, it felt wrong to take advantage of Janus’ flippant romancing, to assign it a meaning that wouldn’t be returned. 

He let go of Janus’ wrist, took his hand from his chest, and stepped back. 

He ignored the way Janus’ expression fell, that hint of a smirk disappearing in an instant, the glint in his eyes fading. Something painful and painfully discordant rang in his chest as he cleared his throat, composed himself against Janus’ sudden frown. 

“I really need to finish my paper,” he said evenly, brushing off the way Janus’ hand hesitated to fall from his waist last of all. 

Janus watched him as he walked back to the table and started to gather his books. There was a beat of silence, and then he asked, in a voice almost hollow, “You’re leaving?” 

“It’s late-” 

“It’s only five.” 

“Patton wanted me to help make dinner tonight,” he said, slightly harsher than he meant to, and Janus’ eyebrows furrowed. “So I should get going, if I want time to finish this essay by tonight.” He slung his bag over his shoulder, staring at the table for a moment, avoiding the brief inevitable, before he looked up at Janus and nodded stiffly. “Have a good evening, Janus.” 

Janus stared at him, something equal parts scathing and scrutinizing in that mismatched gaze; Logan waited another moment for a response, and when it became clear he wasn’t getting one, he nodded again, more to himself than anything, and started to leave. 

It wasn’t until he was past the last bookshelf, right before he’d be out of sight, that Janus spoke at last. 

“You too, Logan.” 


End file.
